The nine months I was pregnant with Rojo were the same nine months my dad was actively dying. My dad was a HUGE "Wheel of Fortune" fan, and most of the conversations we had involved that show. Vanna White was pregnant near the same time I was, and the way he felt he was monitoring my pregnancy, was to watch that show each night, see how "fat" Vanna was getting, and let me know.
He died a month before Rojo was born. One of the few things that calmed Rojo during his screaming-filled first months of life, was the sound of that damn show coming on - the song, the chanting of Wheeeeeeeel ooooooooof Fortuuuuuuuune, the spinning of the wheel - click, click, click, click, click.
Throughout these last nearly thirteen years, Rojo's gone in and out of a "Wheel of Fortune" phase. Right now he's back on - in a big way. We play the game constantly, and watch it religiously each night, the six nights a week it's on. We rest on the Sabbath.
He is EXCELLENT at guessing the puzzles, the other night I did one for him and he got the whole thing with only the 3 A's in place.
To watch him struggle to draw the little lines and fill in (correctly) my guesses, is painful, but part of the process. Sometimes it's more than I can bear and I get impatient, my need to do it "right" versus his need to be the one in charge.
But then there are moments like the one we had last night where he marked off the correct number of lines indicating the correct number of letters, with the space in the right spot.
"It's a place," he said with a satisfied look on his face.
I couldn't get it for the longest time, not until I started with A and ran through the alphabet. "H" I finally said.
"Yes! There are two H's!" he said enthusiastically, placing them in the two first letter of the word positions.
"L" I said.
"Yes! There are 3 L's!" he said, filling them in excitedly.
"Oh, my God, you're funny," I said, when I finally got the puzzle: